Nolan
My hands stung. It felt like the bones in my forearms nearly split when the pipe hit Le Chuck’s ribs, but the shock faded quickly to a dull heat. I thought the weight of the pipe would have dampened the hit more. Le Chuck coughed weakly from behind his empty counter, hands clutching his crushed ribs. Hal’s golf club still hung in the air in front of me, its wielder paralyzed by what had just happened. The pipe hung heavily from my right hand. Blood from Le Chuck’s sputtering mouth crawled across the ground; I could just see it creep around the corner of his desk, and a faint sanguine smell tainted the air. As terrified as I was of what had just happened, there was a small part of me that was thankful ‘The Chuck” couldn’t still speak in that terrible accent. I caught Hal’s gaze, but he stared through me with eyes rigid in shock. Apparently he didn’t share my optimism.
I couldn’t blame him. We hadn’t needed to kill Le Chuck. My brothers would have branded me for taking a life so pointlessly. I'd have happily endured the pain if it meant I could rejoin them, but the noble creed of ten dead men wouldn't have kept me alive today. Le Chuck had made a grab for my cat statue in the middle of a sentence and I hit his hand instinctively. The damn statue wasn’t worth anything, either, but a sticky-fingered life produces a specific set of reflexes. I’d have let him keep the statue for nothing, anyway, but he swung at me with a goddamn sword. No, he didn’t need to die, but the bastard hadn’t given us much a choice.
“So, what are we doing?” Hobson broke the potent silence. “Is someone taking the cat?"
His nasal voice had an uncomfortable ease to it, like he hadn’t just watched two men murder a third with blunt objects. The kind of voice that made me less comfortable than I already had been about the monstrous gun he was carrying. Oren pushed the door at the rear of the shack open.
“I’m getting out, I can’t belie… what the hell did you two just do?” He turned and rushed outside, and Hobson followed.
The dusty air refracted the stale morning sunlight, illuminating the emptiness of Le Chuck’s abode. He sputtered and coughed again, dragging a long wheeze. The light glinted off of the blade of the old saber, and I stared at its gorgeous hilt. Le Chuck didn’t deserve to be stolen from, not after what we did.
The other cat statue was a fair price. I tucked the sword through my belt as the door slammed shut behind me. Le Chuck probably took a short nap, and later bandaged himself up and went fishing. Probably. The others had gathered a few yards away, closer to the edge of the small concrete outcrop into the lake. Hal shot me another ‘that did not go as I planned’ look. It was true enough; stopping at Le Chuck’s had been an unplanned detour.
“What the fuck did you two do?” Oren barked at me as I joined them. He was a bit confused, it seemed. Luckily, Hal jumped in before I had the chance to try avoid the question.
“I know that looked bad, but the guy swung at us first and I didn’t see a choice.” Apparently Hal had already decided he wasn’t at fault. “Let’s just get moving and, try to make peace with it.”
Hobson impatiently shifted his weight, trying to balance his heavy weapon, and curtly said, “Yeah, that was fucked up. But it’s over. Let’s move on, we’ll have to camp soon.” He was still too comfortable with what had just happened. I wondered if I could get to his gun without and remove the charges from the barrel unnoticed.
Oren didn’t look satisfied, and was clearly still furious, but whatever he was thinking, he held his tongue. I gave my silent consent; I was as ready to get out as anyone. The MPD weren’t heavily established in that part of Rivertown, but their patrols weren’t uncommon anywhere in the city, and I always found it was safer to be on the move. If they showed up and found a dead body, they’d probably shoot us for standing near it, “just to be safe.” Additionally, if they recognized me, they’d either kill me twice or bring all of us back to the Tombstone for a week or two of intense torture. I had decided at that point, however, to avoid worrying my new companions with that last part. As long as we kept our noses down around anything tall, dark, and fascist, they wouldn’t need to know.
My hands stung. It felt like the bones in my forearms nearly split when the pipe hit Le Chuck’s ribs, but the shock faded quickly to a dull heat. I thought the weight of the pipe would have dampened the hit more. Le Chuck coughed weakly from behind his empty counter, hands clutching his crushed ribs. Hal’s golf club still hung in the air in front of me, its wielder paralyzed by what had just happened. The pipe hung heavily from my right hand. Blood from Le Chuck’s sputtering mouth crawled across the ground; I could just see it creep around the corner of his desk, and a faint sanguine smell tainted the air. As terrified as I was of what had just happened, there was a small part of me that was thankful ‘The Chuck” couldn’t still speak in that terrible accent. I caught Hal’s gaze, but he stared through me with eyes rigid in shock. Apparently he didn’t share my optimism.
I couldn’t blame him. We hadn’t needed to kill Le Chuck. My brothers would have branded me for taking a life so pointlessly. I'd have happily endured the pain if it meant I could rejoin them, but the noble creed of ten dead men wouldn't have kept me alive today. Le Chuck had made a grab for my cat statue in the middle of a sentence and I hit his hand instinctively. The damn statue wasn’t worth anything, either, but a sticky-fingered life produces a specific set of reflexes. I’d have let him keep the statue for nothing, anyway, but he swung at me with a goddamn sword. No, he didn’t need to die, but the bastard hadn’t given us much a choice.
“So, what are we doing?” Hobson broke the potent silence. “Is someone taking the cat?"
His nasal voice had an uncomfortable ease to it, like he hadn’t just watched two men murder a third with blunt objects. The kind of voice that made me less comfortable than I already had been about the monstrous gun he was carrying. Oren pushed the door at the rear of the shack open.
“I’m getting out, I can’t belie… what the hell did you two just do?” He turned and rushed outside, and Hobson followed.
The dusty air refracted the stale morning sunlight, illuminating the emptiness of Le Chuck’s abode. He sputtered and coughed again, dragging a long wheeze. The light glinted off of the blade of the old saber, and I stared at its gorgeous hilt. Le Chuck didn’t deserve to be stolen from, not after what we did.
The other cat statue was a fair price. I tucked the sword through my belt as the door slammed shut behind me. Le Chuck probably took a short nap, and later bandaged himself up and went fishing. Probably. The others had gathered a few yards away, closer to the edge of the small concrete outcrop into the lake. Hal shot me another ‘that did not go as I planned’ look. It was true enough; stopping at Le Chuck’s had been an unplanned detour.
“What the fuck did you two do?” Oren barked at me as I joined them. He was a bit confused, it seemed. Luckily, Hal jumped in before I had the chance to try avoid the question.
“I know that looked bad, but the guy swung at us first and I didn’t see a choice.” Apparently Hal had already decided he wasn’t at fault. “Let’s just get moving and, try to make peace with it.”
Hobson impatiently shifted his weight, trying to balance his heavy weapon, and curtly said, “Yeah, that was fucked up. But it’s over. Let’s move on, we’ll have to camp soon.” He was still too comfortable with what had just happened. I wondered if I could get to his gun without and remove the charges from the barrel unnoticed.
Oren didn’t look satisfied, and was clearly still furious, but whatever he was thinking, he held his tongue. I gave my silent consent; I was as ready to get out as anyone. The MPD weren’t heavily established in that part of Rivertown, but their patrols weren’t uncommon anywhere in the city, and I always found it was safer to be on the move. If they showed up and found a dead body, they’d probably shoot us for standing near it, “just to be safe.” Additionally, if they recognized me, they’d either kill me twice or bring all of us back to the Tombstone for a week or two of intense torture. I had decided at that point, however, to avoid worrying my new companions with that last part. As long as we kept our noses down around anything tall, dark, and fascist, they wouldn’t need to know.